Ballads and other poems

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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT.

BALLADS

AND

OTHER POEMS

BALLADS

AND

OTHER POEMS.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW,

AUTHOR OF "voices OF THE NIGHT/'
♦'HYPERION/' &C.

SECOND EDITION.

CAMBRIDGE.
PUBLISHED BY JOHN OWEN.

M DCCC XLII.

C..^|/3

CCf

hf^

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year eighteen hundred and
forty-one, by H. W. Longfellow, in the Clerk's office of the District
Court of the District of Massachusetts.

CAMBRIDGE:

STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY T. G. WELLS,
PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY.

CONTENTS

PAGE

Preface vii

BALLADS.

The Skeleton in Armour 29

The Wreck of the Hesperus .... 42

The Luck of Edenhall 48

The Elected Kniffht 53

The Children of the Lord's Supper . . 59

MISCELLANEOUS.

The Village Blacksmith 99

Endymion 103

The Two Locks of Hair 106

It is not always May 109

The Rainy Day Ill

Tl CONTENTS.

God's-Acre 113

To the River Charles 115

Blind Bartimeus .118

The Goblet of Life . . . • . .120

Maidenhood 125

Excelsior 129

PREFACE.

There is one poem in this volume, in ref-
erence to which a few introductory remarks
may be useful. It is The Children of the
Lord^s Supper J from the Swedish of Bishop
Tegner ; a poem which enjoys no inconsider-
able reputation in the North of Europe, and
for its beauty and simplicity merits the atten-
tion of English readers. It is an Idyl, de-
scriptive of scenes in a Swedish village; and
belongs to the same class of poems, as the
Luise of Voss and the Hermann und Dorothea
of Gothe. But the Swedish Poet has been

Vlll PREFACE.

guided by a surer taste, than his German pre-
decessors. His tone is pure and elevated;
and he rarely, if ever, mistakes what is trivial
for what is simple.

There is something patriarchal still linger-
ing about rural life in Sweden, which renders
it a fit theme for song. Almost primeval sim-
plicity reigns over that Northern land, — al-
most primeval solitude and stillness. You
pass out from the gate of the city, and, as if
by magic, the scene changes to a wild, wood-
land landscape. Around you are forests of fir.
Over head hang the long, fan-like branches,
trailing with moss, and heavy with red and
blue cones. Under foot is a carpet of yellow
leaves ; and the air is warm and balmy. On
a wooden bridge you cross a little silver
stream ; and anon come forth into a pleasant
and sunny land of farms. Wooden fences

PREFACE. IX

divide the adjoining fields. Across the road
are gates, which are opened by troops of chil-
dren. The peasants take off their hats as you
pass; you sneeze, and they cry, "God bless
you." The houses in the villages and small-
er towns are all built of hewn timber, and for
the most part painted red. The floors of the
taverns are strewn with the fragrant tips of
fir boughs. In many villages there are no
taverns, and the peasants take turns in receiv-
ing travellers. The thrifty housewife shows
you into the best chamber, the walls of which
are hung round with rude pictures from the
Bible ; and brings you her heavy silver spoons,
— an heirloom, — to dip the curdled milk from
the pan. You have oaten cakes baked some
months before ; or bread with anise-seed and
coriander in it, or perhaps a little pine bark.
Meanwhile the sturdy husband has brought

PREFACE.

his horses from the plough, and harnessed
them to your carriage. Solitary travellers
come and go in uncouth one-horse chaises.
Most of them have pipes in their mouths, and
hanging around their necks in front, a leather
wallet, in which they carry tobacco, and the
great bank notes of the country, as large as
your two hands. You meet, also, groups of
Dalekarlian peasant women, travelling home-
ward or town-ward in pursuit of work. They
walk barefoot, carrying in their hands their
shoes, which have high heels under the hol-
low of the foot, and soles of birch bark.

Frequent, too, are the village churches,
standing by the road-side, each in its own
little garden of Gethsemane. In the parish
register great events are doubtless recorded.
Some old king was christened or buried in
that church ; and a little sexton, with a rusty

PREFACE. XI

key, shows you the baptismal font, or the
coffin. In the church-yard are a few flowers,
and much green grass ; ' and daily the shadow
of the church spire, with its long tapering fin-
ger, counts the tombs, representing a dial-
plate of human life, on which the hours and
minutes are the graves of men. The stones
are flat, and large, and low, and perhaps sunk-
en, like the roofs of old houses. On some
are armorial bearings ,* on others only the ini-
tials of the poor tenants, with a date, as on
the roofs of Dutch cottages. They all sleep
with their heads to the westward. Each held
a lighted taper in his hand when he diedj
and in his coffin were placed his little heart-
treasures, and a piece of money for his last
journey. Babes that came lifeless into the
world were carried in the arms of gray-haired
old men to the only cradle they ever slept in ;

Xll PREFACE.

and in the shroud of the dead mother were
laid the little garments of the child, that lived
and died in her bosom. And over this scene
the village pastor looks from his window in
the stillness of midnight, and says in his
heart, ''How quietly they rest, all the de-
parted ! "

Near the church-yard gate stands a poor-
box, fastened to a post by iron bands, and
secured by a padlock, with a sloping wooden
roof to keep off the rain. If it be Sunday,
the peasants sit on the church steps and con
their psalm-books. Others are coming down
the road with their beloved pastor, who talks
to them of holy things from beneath his
broad-brimmed hat. He speaks of fields and
harvests, and of the parable of the sower, that
went forth to sow. He leads them to the
Good Shepherd, and to the pleasant pastures

PREFACE. XUl

of the spirit-land. He is their patriarch, and,
like Melchizedek, both priest and king, though
he has no other throne than the church pulpit.
The women carry psalm-books in their hands,
wrapped in silk handkerchiefs, and listen de-
voutly to the good man's words. But the
young men, like Gallio, care for none of these
things. They are busy counting the plaits in
the kirtles of the peasant girls, their number
being an indication of the wearer's wealth.
It may end in a wedding.

I will endeavour to describe a village wed-
ding in Sweden. It shall be in summer time,
that there may be flowers, and in a southern
province, that the bride may be fair. The
early song of the lark and of chanticleer are
mingling in the clear morning air, and the
sun, the heavenly bridegroom with golden
locks, arises in the east, just as our earthly

XVI PREFACE. ^

this the host replies, '' Yes ; were you seven
times as many, you should all be welcome ;
and in token thereof receive this cup." Where-
upon each herald receives a can of ale ; and
soon after the whole jovial company comes
storming into the farmer's yard, and, riding
round the May -pole, which stands in the cen-
tre, alights amid a grand salute and flourish of
music.

In the hall sits the bride, with a crown up-
on her head and a tear in her eye, like the
Virgin Mary in old church paintings. She is
dressed in a red boddice and kirtle, with loose
linen sleeves. There is a gilded belt around
her waist ; and around her neck strings of
golden beads, and a golden chain. On the
crown rests a wreath of wild roses, and below
it another of cypress. Loose over her shoul-
ders falls her flaxen hair ; and her blue inno-

PREFACE. ^YU

cent eyes are fixed upon the ground. O thou
good soul ! thou hast hard hands, but a soft
heart ! Thou art poor. The very ornaments
thou wearest are not thine. They have been
hired for this great day. Yet art thou rich j
rich in health, rich in hope, rich in thy first,
young, fervent love. The blessing of heaven
be upon thee ! So thinks the parish priest, as
he joins together the hands of bride and bride-
groom, saying in deep, solemn tones, — ''I
give thee in marriage this damsel, to be thy
wedded wife in all honor, and to share the
half of thy bed, thy lock and key, and every
third penny which you two may possess, or
may inherit, and all the rights which Upland's
laws provide, and the holy king Erik gave."

The dinner is now served, and the bride
sits between the bridegroom and the priest.
The Spokesman delivers an oration after the
2 c

XVlll PREFACE.

ancient custom of his fathers. He interlards
it well with quotations from the Bible ; and
invites the Saviour to be present at this mar-
riage feast, as he was at the marriage feast in
Cana of Galilee. The table is not sparingly-
set forth. Each makes a long arm, and the
feast goes cheerly on. Punch and brandy pass
round between the courses, and here and there
a pipe is smoked, while waiting for the next
dish. They sit long at table ; but, as all
things must have an end, so must a Swedish
dinner. Then the dance begins. It is led
off by the bride and the priest, who perform a
solemn minuet together. Not till after mid-
night comes the Last Dance. The girls form
a ring around the bride, to keep her from the
hands of the married women, who endeavour
to break through the magic circle, and seize
their new sister. After long struggling they

PREFACE. XIX

succeed ; and the crown is taken from her
head and the jewels from her neck, and her
boddice is unlaced and her kirtle taken off;
and like a vestal virgin clad all in white she
goes, but it is to her marriage chamber, not to
her grave ; and the wedding guests follow
her with lighted candles in their hands. And
this is a village bridal.

Nor must I forget the suddenly changing sea-
sons of the Northern clime. There is no long
and lingering sirring, unfolding leaf and blos-
som one by one ; — no long and lingering au-
tumn, pompous Avith many-colored leaves and
the glow of Indian summers. But winter
and summer are wonderful, and pass into each
other. The quail has hardly ceased piping
in the corn, when winter from the folds of
trailing clouds sows broad-cast over the land
snow, icicles, and rattling hail. Th6 days

'sat PEEFACE.

wane apace. Ere long the sun hardly rises
above the horizon, or does not rise at all.
The moon and the stars shine through the
day ; only, at noon, they are pale and wan,
and in the southern sky a red, fiery glow, as
of sunset, burns along the horizon, and then
goes out. And pleasantly under the silver
moon, and under the silent, solemn stars, ring
the steel-shoes of the skaters on the frozen
sea, and voices, and the sound of bells.

And now the Northern Lights begin to
burn, faintly at first, like sunbeams playing
in the waters of the blue sea. Then a soft
crimson glow tinges the heavens. There is
a blush on the cheek of night. The colors
come and go ; and change from crimson to
gold, from gold to crimson. The snow is
stained with rosy light. Twofold from the
zenith, east and west, flames a fiery sword;

PREFACE. XXI

and a broad band passes athwart the heav^
ens, like a summer sunset. Soft purple clouds
come sailing over the sky, and through their
vapory folds the winking stars shine white as
silver. With such pomp as this is Merry
Christmas ushered in, though only a single
star heralded the first Christmas. And in
memory of that day the Swedish peasants
dance on straw ; and the peasant girls throw
straws at the timbered roof of the hall, and
for every one that sticks in a crack shall a
groomsman come to their wedding. Merry
Christmas indeed ! For pious souls there shall
be church songs and sermons, but for Swe-
dish peasants, brandy and nut brown ale in
wooden bowls ; and the great Yulecake crown-
^ with a cheese, and garlanded with apples,
and. upholding a three-armed candlestick over
the Christmas feast. They may tell tales,

XXU PREFACE.

toO; of Jons Limdsbracka, and Lunkenfus, and
the great Riddar Finke of Pingsdaga.*

And now the glad, leafy mid-summer, full
of blossoms and the song of nightingales, is
come ! Saint John has taken the flowers and
festival of heathen Balder ; and in every vil-
lage there is a May-pole fifty feet high, with
wreaths and roses and ribands streaming in
the wind, and a noisy weathercock on top. to
tell the village v/hence the wind cometh and
whither it goeth. The sun does not set till
ten o'clock at night ; and the children are at
play in the streets an hour later. The win-
dows and doors are all open, and you may sit
and read till midnight without a candle. O
how beautiful is the summer night, which is
not night, but a sunless yet unclouded day,
descending upon earth with dews, and shad-

• Titles of Swedish popular tales.

PREFACE. XXlll

ows, and refreshing coolness! How beauti-
ful the long, mild twilight, which like a silver
clasp unites to-day with yesterday ! How
beautiful the silent hour, when Morning and
Evening thus sit together, hand in hand, be-
neath the starless sky of midnight ! From
the church-tower in the public square the bell
tolls the hour, with a soft, musical chime ;
and the watchman, whose watch-tower is the
belfry, blows a blast in his horn, for each
stroke of the hammer, and four times, to the
four corners of the heavens, in a sonorous voice
he chaunts, —

" Ho ! watchman, ho !
Twelve is the clock !
God keep our town
From fire and brand
And hostile hand !
Twelve is the clock ! "

From his swallow's nest in the belfry he can
see the sun all night long ; and farther north

XXIV PREFACE.

the priest stands at his door in the warm mid-
night, and lights his pipe with a common
burning glass.

I trust that these remarks will not be deemed
irrelevant to the poem, but will lead to a clear-
er understanding of it. The translation is lit-
eral, perhaps to a fault. In no instance have
I done the author a wrong, by introducing
into his work any supposed improvements or
Embellishments of my own. I have preserved
feVen the measure ; that inexorable hexameter,
in which, it must be confessed, the motions
of the English Muse are not unlike those of
a prisoner dancing to the music of his chains ;
and perhaps, as Dr. Johnson said of the dan-
cing dog, " the wonder is not that she should
do it so well, but that she should do it at all."

Esaias Tegner, the author of this poem, was
born in the parish of By in Wiirmland, in the

PREFACE, XXV

year 1782. In 1799 he entered the Univer-
sity of Lund, as a student ; and in 1812 was
appointed Professor of Greek in that institu-
tion. In 1824 he became Bishop of Wexio,
which office he still holds. He stands first
among all the poets of Sweden, living or dead.
His principal work is Frithiofs Saga ; one of
the most remarkable poems of the age. This
modern Scald has written his name in im-
mortal runes. He is the glory and boast of
Sweden ; a prophet, honored in his own coun-
try, and adding one more to the list of great
names, that adorn her history.

BALLADS

29

THE SKELETON IN ARMOUR.

[The following Ballad was suggested to me while riding
on the seashore at Newport. A year or two previous a skel-
eton had been dug up at Fall River, clad in broken and cor-
roded armour; and the idea occurred to me of connecting it
with the Round Tower at Newport, generally known hither-
to as the Old Wind-Mill, though now claimed by the Danes
as a work of their early ancestors. Professor Rafn, in the
Mimoircs de la Societi Royale des Jlntiquaires du Nordy
for 1838 -J 839^ says;

" There is no mistaking in this instance the style in which
the more ancient stone edifices of the North were construct-
ed, the style which belongs to the Roman or Ante- Gothic
architecture, and which, especially after the time of Charle-
magne, diffused itself from Italy over the whole of the West
and North of Europe, where it continued to predominate

30 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

until the close of the 12th century; that style, which some
authors have, from one of its most striking characteristics,
called the round arch style, the same which in England is
denominated Saxon and sometimes Norman architecture.

" On the ancient structure in Newport there are no orna-
ments remaining, which might possibly have served to guide
us in assigning the probable date of its erection. That no
vestige whatever is found of the pointed arch, nor any ap-
proximation to it, is indicative of an earlier rather than of a
later period. From such characteristics as remain, however,
we can scarcely form any other inference than one, in which
I am persuaded that all, who are familiar with Old-Northern
architecture, will concur, that this building was erected

AT A PERIOD DECIDEDLY NOT LATER THAN THE 12tH CEN-

TURV. This remark applies, of course, to the original build-
ing only, and not to the alterations that it subsequently re-
ceived ; for there are several such alterations in the upper
part of the building which cannot be mistaken, and which
were most likely occasioned by its being adapted in modern
times to various uses, for example as the substructure of a
wind-mill, and latterly as a hay magazine. To the same
times may be referred the windows, the fire-place, and the
apertures made above the columns. That this building

THE SKELETON IN ARMOUR. 31

could not have been erected for a wind-mill, is what an archi-
tect will easily discern."

I will not enter into a discussion of the point. It is suffi-
ciently well established for the purpose of a ballad ; though
doubtless many an honest citizen of Newport, who has
passed his days within sight of the Round Tower, will be
ready to exclaim with Sancho; " God bless me ! did I not
warn you to have a care of what you were doing, for that
it was nothing but a wind-mill ; and nobody could mistake it,
but one who had the like in his head."]

" Speak ! speak ! thou fearful guest !
Who, with thy hollow breast
Still in rude armour drest,

Comest to daunt me !
Wrapt not in Eastern balms,
But whh thy fieshless palms
Stretched, as if asking alms.

Why dost thou haunt me .^ "

32 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Then, from those cavernous eyes
Pale flashes seemed to rise,
As when the Northerji skies

Gleam in December ;
And, like the water's flow
Under December's snow,
Came a dull voice of woe

From the heart's chamber.

■ I was a Viking old !

My deeds, though manifold.

No Skald in song has told,

No Saga taught thee !
Take heed, that in thy verse
Thou dost the tale rehearse,
Else dread a dead man's curse !

For this I sought the^.

THE SKELETON IN ARMOUR. 33

" Far in the Northern Land,
By the wild Baltic's strand,
I, with my childish hand,

Tamed the ger-falcon ;
And, with my skates fast-bound,
Skimmed the half-frozen Sound,
That the poor whimpering hound

Trembled to walk on.

" Oft to his frozen lair
Tracked I the grisly bear.
While from my path the hare

Fled like a shadow ;
Oft through the forest dark
Followed the were-wolf 's bark.
Until the soaring lark

Sang from the meadow.

34 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

'' But when I older grew,
Joining a corsair's crew,
O'er the dark sea I flew

With the marauders.
Wild was the hfe we led ;
Many the souls that sped.
Many the hearts that bled,

By our stern orders.

^' Many a wassail-bout
Wore the long Winter out ;
Often our midnight shout

Set the cocks crowing,
As we the Berserk's tale
Measured in cups of ale,
Draining the oaken pail.
Filled to o'erflowing.

THE SKELETON IN ARMOUK. 35

" Once as I told in glee
Tales of the stormy sea,
Soft eyes did gaze on me,.

Burning yet tender ;
And as the white stars shine
On the dark Norway pine.
On that dark heart of mine

Fell their soft splendor.

I wooed the blue-eyed maid,
Yielding, yet half afraid,
And in the forest's shade

Our vows were plighted.
Under its loosened vest
Fluttered her little breast,
Like birds within their nest

By the hawk frighted..

36 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

" Bright in her father's hall
Shields gleamed upon the wall,
Loud sang the minstrels all,

Chaunting his glory ;
When of old Hildebrand
I asked his daughter's hand,
Mute did the minstrels stand

To hear my story.

While the brown ale he quaffed,
Loud then the champion laughed.
And as the wind-gusts waft

The sea-foam brightly,
So the loud laugh of scorn,
Out of those hps unshorn.
From the deep drinking-horn

Blew the foam lightly.

THE SKELETON IN ARMOUR. 37

" She was a Prince's child,
I but a Viking wild,
And though she blushed and smiled,

I was discarded !
Should not the dove so white
Follow the sea-mew's flight.
Why did they leave that night

Her nest unguarded ?

" Scarce had I put to sea.
Bearing the maid with me, — -
Fairest of all was she

Among the Norsemen ! —
When on the white sea-strand.
Waving his armed hand,
Saw we old Hildebrand,
With twenty horsemen.

38 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

" Then launched they to the blast,
Bent like a reed each mast,
Yet we were gaining fast.

When the wind failed us ;
And with a sudden flaw
Came round the gusty Skaw,
So that our foe we saw

Laugh as he hailed us.

" And as to catch the gale

Round veered the flapping sail,
Death ! was the helmsman's hail.

Death without quarter !
Mid-ships with iron keel
Struck we her ribs of steel ;
Down her black hulk did reel
Through the black water !

THE SKELETON IN ARMOUR. 39

" As with his wings aslant,
Sails the fierce cormorant,
Seeking some rocky haunt.

With his prey laden.
So toward the open main.
Beating to sea again,
Through the wild hurricane,
Bore I the maiden.

■' Three weeks we westward bore.
And when the storm was o'er.
Cloud-like we saw the shore

Stretching to lea-ward ;
There for my lady's bower
Built I the lofty tower.
Which, to this very hour.

Stands looking sea-ward.

40 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

" There lived we many years ;
Time dried the maiden's tears ;
She had forgot her fears,
She was a mother ;
Death closed her mild blue eyes.
Under that tower she lies ;
Ne'er shall the sun arise
On such another !

" Still grew my bosom then,
Still as a stagnant fen !
Hateful to me were men.

The sun-light hateful !
In the vast forest here,
Clad in my warlike gear.
Fell I upon my spear,

O, death was grateful !

THE SKELETON IN ARMOUR. 41

" Thus, seamed with many scars
Bursting these prison bars,
Up to its native stars

My soul ascended !
There from the flowing bowl
Deep drinks the warrior's soul,
Skoal ! to the Northland ! skoal / " *

— Thus the tale ended.

* In Scandanavia this is the customary salutation when
drinking a health. I have slightly changed the orthography
of the word, in order to preserve the correct pronunciation.

42

THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS.

It was the schooner Hesperus,

That sailed the wintry sea ;
And the skipper had taken his httle daughter.

To bear him company.

Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax,
Her cheeks like the dawn of day,

And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds,
That ope in the month of May.

THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS, 43

The skipper he stood beside the helm.

With his pipe in his mouth,
And watched how the veering flaw did blow

The smoke now West, now South.

Then up and spake an old Sailor,
Had sailed the Spanish Main,
" I pray thee, put into yonder port.
For 1 fear a hurricane.

" Last night, the moon had a golden ring.
And to-night no moon we see ! "
The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe.
And a scornful laugh laughed he.

Colder and louder blew the wind,

A gale from the Northeast ;
The snow fell hissing in the brine.

And the billows frothed like yeast.

44 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Down came the storm, and smote amain,

The vessel in its strength ;
She shuddered and paused, hke a frighted steed,

Then leaped her cable's length.

" Come hither ! come hither ! my little daughter,
And do not tremble so ;
For I can weather the roughest gale,
That ever wind did blow."

He wrapped her w^arm in his seaman's coat

Against the stinging blast ;
He cut a rope from a broken spar.

And bound her to the mast.

*' O father ! I hear the church-bells ring,

O say, what may it be ? "
"'T is a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast ! " —

And he steered for the open sea.

THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. 45

" O father ! I hear the sound of guns,

O say, what may it be ? "
" Some ship in distress, that cannot live

In such an angry sea ! "

" O father ! I see a gleaming light,
O say, what may it be ? "
But the father answered never a word,
A frozen corpse was he.

Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark,

With his face to the skies.
The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow

On his fixed and glassy eyes.

Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed

That saved she might be ;
And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave.

On the Lake of Galilee.

46 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

And fast through the midnight dark and drear,
Through the whistHng sleet and snow,

Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept

Towards the reef of Norman's Woe.

And ever the fitful gusts between
A sound came from the land ;

It was the sound of the trampling surf,
On the rocks and the hard sea-sand.

The breakers were right beneath her bows,

She drifted a dreary wreck.
And a whooping billow swept the crew

Like icicles from her deck.

She struck where the white and fleecy waves

Looked soft as carded wool.
But the cruel rocks, they gored her side

Like the horns of an angry bull.

THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. 47

Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed m ice,
With the masts went by the board ;

Like a vessel of glass, she strove and sank,
Ho ! ho ! the breakers roared !

At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach,

A fisherman stood aghast,
To see the form of a maiden fair.

Lashed close to a drifting mast.

The salt sea was frozen on her breast.

The salt tears in her eyes ;
And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed,

On the billows fall and rise.

Such was the wreck of the Hesperus,

In the midnight and the snow !
Christ save us all from a death like this,

On the reef of Norman's Woe !

48

THE LUCK OF EDENHALL.

FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND.

[The tradition, upon which this ballad is founded, and the
" shards of the Luck of Edenhall," still exist in England.
The goblet is in the possession of Sir Christopher Musgrave,
Bart., of Eden Hall, Cumberland j and is not so entirely shat-
tered, as the ballad leaves it. ]

Op Edenhall, the youthful Lord
Bids sound the festal trumpet's call ;
He rises at the banquet board,
And cries, 'mid the drunken revellers all,
" Now bring me the Luck of Edenhall ! '*

THE LUCK OF EDENHALL. 49

The butler hears the words with pain,
The house's oldest seneschal,
Takes slow from its silken cloth again
The drinking glass of crystal tall ;
They call it The Luck of Edenhall.

Then said the Lord ; " This glass to praise.

Fill with red wine from Portugal ! "

The gray-beard with trembling hand obeys ;

A purple light shines over all,

It beams from the Luck of Edenhall.

Then speaks the Lord, and waves it light,
'^ This glass of flashing crystal tall

Gave to my sires the Fountain- Sprite ;
She WTOte in it ; // this glass cloth fall
Farewell then^ O Luck of Edenhall !

4 6

50 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

" 'T was right a goblet the Fate should be
Of the joyous race of Edenhall !
Deep draughts drink we right willingly ;
And wiUingly ring, with merry call,
Kling ! klang ! to the Luck of Edenhall ! "

First rings it deep, and full, and mild,
Like to the song of a nightingale ;
Then like the roar of a torrent wild ;
Then mutters at last like the thunder's fall,
The glorious Luck of Edenhall.

'' For its keeper takes a race of might.
The fragile goblet of crystal tall ;
It has lasted longer than is right ;
Kling ! klang ! — with a harder blow than all
Will I try the Luck of Edenhall ! "

THE LUCK OF EDENHALL. 51

As the goblet ringing flies apart,
Suddenly cracks the vaulted hall ;
And through the rift, the wild flames start ;
The guests in dust are scattered all.
With the breaking Luck of Edenhall !

In storms the foe, with fire and sword ;
He in the night had scaled the wall,
Slain by the sword hes the youthful Lord,
But holds in his hand the crystal tall,
The shattered Luck of Edenhall.

On the morrow the butler gropes alone,
The gray-beard in the desert hall.
He seeks his Lord's burnt skeleton,
He seeks in the dismal ruin's fall
The shards of the Luck of Edenhall.

52 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

" The stone wall," saith he, "doth fall aside,
Down must the stately columns fall ;
Glass is this earth's Luck and Pride ;
In atoms shall fall this earthly ball
One day like the Luck of Edenhall ! "

53

THE ELECTED KNIGHT.

FROM THE DANISH.

[ The following strange and somewhat mystical ballad is
from Nyerup and Rahbek's Danske Viser of the Middle
Ages. It seems to refer to the first preaching of Christianity
in the North, and to the institution of Knight-Errantry.
The three maidens I suppose to be Faith, Hope, and Charity.
The irregularities of the original have been carefully pre-
served in the translation.]

Sir Oluf he rideth over the plain,

Full seven miles broad and seven miles wide,
But never, ah never can meet with the man

A tilt with him dare ride.

54 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

He saw under the hill-side

A Knight full well equipped ;
His steed was black, his helm was barred ;

He was riding at full speed.

He wore upon his spurs

Twelve little golden birds ;
Anon he spurred his steed with a clang,

And there sat all the birds and sang.

He wore upon his mail

Twelve little golden wheels ;
Anon in eddies the wild wind blew,

And round and round the wheels they flew.

He wore before his breast

A lance that was poised in rest ;

And it was sharper than diamond-stone,
It made Sir Oluf 's heart to groan.

THE ELECTED KNIGHT. 65

He wore upon his helm,

A wreath of ruddy gold ;
And that gave him the Maidens Three,

The youngest was fair to behold.

Sir Oluf questioned the Knight eftsooii
If he were come from heaven down ;
" Art thou Christ of Heaven," quoth he,
" So will I yield me unto thee."

" I am not Christ the Great,

Thou shalt not yield thee yet ;
I am an Unknown Knight,

Three modest Maidens have me bedight."

"• Art thou a Knight elected.

And have three Maidens thee bedight ;
So shalt thou ride a tilt this day,
For all the Maidens' honor ! "

BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

The first tilt they together rode
They put their steeds to the test ;

The second tilt they together rode.
They proved their manhood best.

The third tilt they together rode,
Neither of them would yield ;

The fourth tilt they together rode.
They both fell on the field.

Now lie the lords upon the plain,
And their blood runs unto death ;

Now sit the Maidens in the high tower,
The youngest sorrows till death.

THE

CHILDREN

THE LORD'S SUPPER.

FROM THE SWEDISH OF BISHOP TEGNER.

59

THE

CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER.

Pentecost, day of rejoicing, had come. The
church of the village

Stood gleaming white in the morning's sheen.
On the spire of the belfry.

Tipped with a vane of metal, the friendly flames
of the Spring-sun

Glanced like the tongues of fire, beheld by Apos-
tles aforetime.

60 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Clear was the heaven and blue, and May, with

her cap crowned whh roses,
Stood in her hohday dress in the fields, and the

wind and the brooklet
Murmured gladness and peace, God's-peace !

With lips rosy-tinted
Whispered the race of the flowers, and merry

on balancing branches
Birds were singing their carol, a jubilant hymn to

the Highest.
Swept and clean was the churchyard. Adorned

like a leaf- woven arbour
Stood its old-fashioned gate ; and within upon

each cross of iron
Hung was a sweet-scented garland, new twined

by the hands of affection.
Even the dial, that stood on a fountain among the

departed,
(There full a hundred years had it stood,) w^as

embellished with blossoms.

THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER, 61

Like to the patriarch hoary, the sage of his kith

and the hamlet,
Who on his birth-day is crowned by children and

children's children,
So stood the ancient prophet, and mute with his

pencil of iron
Marked on the tablet of stone, and measured the

swift-changing moment.
While all around at his feet, an eternity slumber-
ed in quiet.
Also the church within was adorned, for this was

the season
In which the young, their parents' hope, and the

loved-ones of heaven.
Should at the foot of the altar renew the vows

of their baptism.
Therefore each nook and corner was swept and

cleaned, and the dust was
Blown from the walls and ceiling, and from the

oil-painted benches.

62 BALLADS AND OTHEE POEMS.

There stood the church hke a garden ; the Feast
of the Leafy Pavihons *

Saw we in hving presentment. From noble arms
on the church wall

Grew forth a cluster of leaves, and the preach-
er's pulpit of oak-wood

Budded once more anew, as aforetime the rod
before Aaron.

Wreathed thereon was the Bible with leaves, and
the dove, washed with silver.

Under its canopy fastened, a necklace had on of
wind-flowers.

But in front of the choir, round the altar-piece
painted by Horberg,f

Crept a garland gigantic ; and bright-curhng tress-
es of angels

* The Feast of the Tabernacles; in Swedish, Lofhyddo-
hOgtiden, the Leaf-huts'-high-tide.

t The peasant-painter of Sweden. He is known chiefly
by his altar-pieces in the village churches.

THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 63

Peeped, like the sun from a cloud, out of the

shadowy leaf-work.
Likewise the lustre of brass, new-polished, blinked

from the ceiling,
And for lights there were lilies of Pentecost set

in the sockets.

Loud rang the bells already ; the thronging

crowd was assembled
Far from valleys and hills, to list to the holy

preaching.
Hark ! then roll forth at once the mighty tones

from the organ,
Hover like voices from God, aloft like invisible

spirits.
Like as Ehas in heaven, when he cast off from

him his mantle,
Even so cast off the soul its garments of earth ;

and with one voice

64 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Chimed in the congregation, and sang an anthem

immortal
Of the subhme WaUin,* of David's harp in the

North-land
Tuned to the choral of Luther ; the song on its

powerful pinions
Took every hving soul, and lifted it gently to

heaven,
And every face did shine like the Holy One's

face upon Tabor.
Lo ! there entered then into the church the Rev-
erend Teacher.
Father he hight and he was in the parish ; a

christianly plainness
Clothed from his head to his feet the old man of

seventy winters.

* A distinguished pulpit-orator and poet. He is particu-
larly remarkable for the beauty and sublimity of his psalms.

THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. ()5

Friendly was he to behold, and glad as the herald-
ing angel

Walked he among the crowds, but still a contem-
plative grandeur

Lay on his forehead as clear, as on moss-covered
grave-stone a sun-beam.

As in his inspiration (an evening twilight that
faintly

Gleams in the human soul, even now, from the
day of creation)

Th' Artist, the friend of heaven, imagines Saint
John when in Patmos ; —

Gray, with his eyes uplifted to heaven, so seemed
then the old man ;

Such was the glance of his eye, and such were
his tresses of silver.

All the congregation arose in the pews that were
numbered.

But with a cordial look, to the right and the left

hand, the old man

5 I

66 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Nodding all hail and peace, disappeared in the
innermost chancel.

Simply and solemnly now proceeded the Chris-
tian service.

Singing and prayer, and at last an ardent dis-
course from the old man.

Many a moving word and warning, that out of
the heart came

Fell like the dew of the morning, like manna on
those in the desert.

Afterwards, when all was finished, the Teacher
reentered the chancel.

Followed therein by the young. On the right
hand the boys had their places,

Delicate figures, with close-curhng hair and
cheeks rosy-blooming.

But on the left-hand of these, there stood the
tremulous lilies,

THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. G7

Tinged with the blushing light of the morning,

the diffident maidens, —
Folding their hands in prayer, and their eyes cast

down on the pavement.
Now came, with question and answer, the cate-
chism. In the beginning
Answered the children with troubled and faher-

ing voice, but the old man's
Glances of kindness encouraged them soon, and

the doctrines eternal
Flowed, like the waters of fountains, so clear

from lips unpolluted.
Whene'er the answer was closed, and as oft as

they named the Redeemer,
Lowly louted the boys, and lowly the maidens all

courtesied.
Friendly the Teacher stood, like an angel of hght

there among them.
And to the children explained he the holy, the

highest, in few v/ords,

68 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Thorough, yet simple and clear, for sublimity
always is simple,

Both in sermon and song, a child can seize on
its meaning.

Even as the green-growing bud is unfolded when
Spring-tide approaches

Leaf by leaf is developed, and, warmed by the
radiant sunshine.

Blushes with purple and gold, till at last the per-
fected blossom

Opens its odorous chalice, and rocks with its
crown in the breezes.

So was unfolded here the Christian lore of sal-
vation,

Line by line from the soul of childhood. The
fathers and mothers

Stood behind them in tears, and were glad at
each well-worded answer.

THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 69

Now went the old man up to the altar ; — and
straightway transfigured

(So did it seem unto me) was then the affection-
ate Teacher.

Like the Lord's Prophet sublime, and awful as
Death and as Judgment

Stood he, the God-commissioned, the soul-
searcher, earthward descending.

Glances, sharp as a sword, into hearts, that to
him were transparent

Shot he ; his voice was deep, was low like the
thunder afar off.

So on a sudden transfigured he stood there, he
spake and he questioned.

''This is the faith of the Fathers, the faith the
Apostles delivered.
This is moreover the faith whereunto I baptized
you, while still ye

70 BALLADS. AND OTHER POEMS.

Lay on your mothers' breasts, and nearer the

portals of heaven.
Slumbering received you then the Holy Church

in its bosom ;
Wakened from sleep are ye now, and the light in

its radiant splendor
Bains from the heaven downward ; — to-day on

the threshold of childhood
Kindly she frees you again, to examine and make

your election.
For she knows nought of compulsion, only con-
viction desireth.
This is the hour of your trial, the turning-point

of existence,
Seed for the coming days ; without revocation

departeth
Now from your lips the confession ; Bethink ye,

before ye make answer !
Think not, O think not with guile to deceive the

questioning Teacher.

THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 71

Sharp is his eye to-day, and a curse ever rests

upon falsehood.
Enter not with a lie on Life's journey ; the mul-
titude hears you.
Brothers and sisters and parents, what dear upon

earth is and holy
Standeth before your sight as a witness ; the

Judge everlasting
Looks from the sun down upon you, and angels

in waiting beside him
Grave your confession in letters of fire, upon

tablets eternal.
Thus then, — believe ye in God, in the Father

who this world created ?
Him who redeemed it, the Son, and the Spirit

where both are united ?
Will ye promise me here, (a holy promise !) to

cherish
God more than all things earthly, and every man

as a brother ?

72 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Will ye promise me here, to confirm your faith
by your living,

Th' heavenly faith of affection ! to hope, to for-
give, and to suffer.

Be what it may your condition, and walk before
God in uprightness ?

Will ye promise me this before God and man ? "
— With a clear voice

Answered the young men Yes ! and Yes ! with
lips softly-breathing

Answered the maidens eke. Then dissolved from
the brow of the Teacher

Clouds with the thunders therein, and he spake
on in accents more gentle.

Soft as the evening's breath, as harps by Baby-
lon's rivers.

''Hail, then, hail to you all! To the heir-
dom of heaven be ye welcome !

THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 73

t

Children no more from this day, but by covenant

brothers and sisters !
Yet, — for what reason not children? Of such

is the kingdom of heaven.
Here upon earth an assemblage of children, in

heaven one father,
Ruling them as his own household, — forgiving

in turn and chastising.
That is of human life a picture, as Scripture has

taught us.
Blessed are the pure before God ! Upon purity

and upon virtue
Resteth the Christian Faith ; she herself from on

high is descended. •'

Strong as a man and pure as a child, is the sum

of the doctrine.
Which the Godlike delivered, and on the cross

suffered and died for.
O ! as ye wander this day from childhood's sa-
cred asylum

74 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Downward and ever downward, and deeper in

Age's chill valley,
O ! how soon will ye come, — too soon ! — and

long to turn backward
Up to its hill-tops again, to the sun-illumined,

where Judgment
Stood like a father before you, and Pardon, clad

like a mother,
Gave you her hand to kiss, and the loving heart

was forgiven,
Life was a play and your hands grasped after tlie

roses of heaven !
Seventy years have I lived already ; the father

eternal
Gave to me gladness and care ; but the loveliest

hours of existence.
When I have steadfastly gazed in their eyes, I

have instantly known them,
Known them all, all again ; — they were my

childhood's acquaintance.

THE CHILDREN OF TPIE LORD'S SUPPER. 75

Therefore take from henceforth, as guides in the
paths of existence,

Prayer, with her eyes raised to heaven, and In-
nocence, bride of man's childhood.

Innocence, child beloved, is a guest from the
world of the blessed.

Beautiful, and in her hand a hly ; on life's roar-
ing billows

Swings she in safety, she heedeth them not, in
the ship she is sleeping.

Calmly she gazes around in the turmoil of men ;
in the desert

Angels descend and minister unto her ; she her-
self knoweth

Naught of her glorious attendance ; but follows
faithful and humble.

Follows so long as she may her friend ; O do
not reject her.

For she cometh from God and she holdeth the
keys of the heavens. —

76 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Prayer is Innocence' friend ; and willingly flyeth
incessant

'Twixt the earth and the sky, the carrier-pigeon
of heaven.

Son of Eternity, fettered in Time, and an exile,
the Spirit

Tugs at his chains evermore, and struggles like
flames ever upward.

Still he recalls with emotion his father's manifold
mansions,

Thinks of the land of his fathers, where blos-
somed more freshly the flowers,

Shone a more beautiful sun, and he played with
the winged angels.

Then grows the earth too narrow, too close ; and
homesick for heaven

Longs the wanderer again ; and the Spirit's long-
ings are worship ;

Worship is called his most beautiful hour, and its
tongue is entreaty.

THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 77

Ah ! when the infinite burden of life descendeth
upon us,

Crushes to earth our hope, and, under the earth,
in the grave-yard, —

Then it is good to pray unto God ; for his sor-
rowing children

Turns he ne'er from his door, but he heals and
helps and consoles them.

Yet is it better to pray when all things are pros-
perous with us,

Pray in fortunate days, for life's most beautiful
Fortune

Kneels down before the Eternal's throne ; and,
with hands interfolded.

Praises thankful and moved the only giver of
blessings.

Or do ye know, ye children, one blessing that
comes not from Heaven ?

What has mankind forsooth, the poor ! that it has
not received ?

78 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Therefore, fall in the dust and pray ! The ser-
aphs adoring
Cover with pinions six their face in the glory of

him who
Hung his masonry pendant on naught, when the

world he created.
Earth declareth his might, and the firmament ut-

tereth his glory.
Races blossom and die, and stars fall downward

from heaven.
Downward like withered leaves ; at the last

stroke of midnight, millenniums
Lay themselves down at his feet, and he sees

them, but counts them as nothing.
Who shall stand in his presence ? The wrath

of the judge is terrific,
Casting the insolent down at a glance. When he

speaks in his anger
Hillocks skip like the kid, and mountains leap

like the roe-buck.

THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 79

Yet, — why are ye afraid, ye children? This

awful avenger,
Ah ! is a merciful God ! God's voice was not in

the earthquake
Not in the fire, nor the storm, but it w^as in the

whispering breezes.
Love is the root of creation ; God's essence ;

worlds without number
Lie in his bosom like children ; he made them

for this purpose only.
Only to love and to be loved again, he breathed

forth his spirit
L)to the slumbering dust, and upright standing, it

laid its
Hand on its heart, and felt it w^as warm with a

flame out of heaven.
Quench, O quench not that flame ! It is the

breath of your being.
Love is life, but hatred is death. Not father, nor

mother

80 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Loved you, as God has loved you ; for 't was

that you may be happy
Gave he his only son. When he bowed down

his head in the death-hour
Solemnized Love its triumph ; the sacrifice then

was completed.
Lo ! then was rent on a sudden the vail of the

temple, dividing
Earth and heaven apart, and the dead from their

sepulchres rising
"Whispered with pallid lips and low in the ears of

each other
Th' answer, but dreamed of before, to creation's

enigma, — Atonement !
Depths of Love are Atonement's depths, for Love

is Atonement.
Therefore, child of mortality, love thou the mer-
ciful Father ;
Wish what the Holy One wishes, and not from

fear, but affection ;

THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 81

Fear is the virtue of slaves ; but the heart that

loveth is wiUing ;
Perfect was before God, and perfect is Love,

and Love only.
Lovest thou God as thou oughtest, then lovest

thou Hkewise thy brethren ;
One is the sun in heaven, and one, only one, is

Love also.
Bears not each human figure the godlike stamp on

his forehead ?
Readest thou not in his face thine origin ? Is he

not sailing
Lost like thyself on an ocean unknown, and is

he not guided
By the same stars that guide thee ? Why shouldst

thou hate then thy brother ?
Hateth he thee, forgive ! For 't is sweet to stam-
mer one letter
Of the Eternal's language ; — on earth it is called

Forgiveness !

6 K

82 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Knowest thou Him, who forgave, with the crown

of thorns round his temples ?
Earnestly prayed for his foes, for his murderers ?

Say, dost thou know him ?
Ah ! thou confesses! his name, so follow likewise

his example.
Think of thy brother no ill, but throw a veil over

his failings,
Guide the erring aright ; for the good, the heav-
enly shepherd
Took the lost lamb in his arms, and bore it back

to its mother.
.This is the fruit of Love, and it is by its fruits that

we know it. —
Love is the creature's welfare, with God ; but

Love among mortals
Is but an endless sigh ! He longs, and endures,

and stands waiting.
Suffers and yet rejoices, and smiles with tears on

his eyelids.

THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 83

Hope, — SO is called upon earth, his recompense.

— Hope, the befriending.
Does what she can, for she points evermore up

to heaven, and faithful
Plunges her anchor's peak in the depths of the

grave, and beneath it
Paints a more beautiful world, a dim, but a sweet

play of shadows !
Races, better than we, have leaned on her waver-
ing promise,
Having naught else beside Hope. Then praise

w^e our Father in heaven,
Him, who has given us more ; for to us has Hope

been illumined.
Groping no longer in night ; she is Faith, she is

living assurance.
Faith is enlightened Hope ; she is light, is the eye

of affection,
Dreams of the longing interprets, and carves

their visions in marble.

84 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Faith is the sun of hfe ; and her countenance

shines hke the Prophet's,
For she has looked upon God ; the heaven on

its stable foundation
Draws she with chains down to earth, and the

New Jerusalem sinketh
Splendid with portals twelve in golden vapors

descending.
There enraptured she wanders, and looks at the

figures majestic,
Fears not the winged crowd, in the midst of them

all is her homestead.
Therefore love and believe ; for works will follow

spontaneous
Even as day does the sun ; the Right from the

Good is an offspring,
Love in a bodily shape ; and Christian works are

no more than
Animate Love and faith, as flowers are the ani-
mate spring-tide.

THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 85

Works do follow us all unto God ; there stand

and bear witness
Not what they seemed, — but what they were

only. Blessed is he who
Hears their confession secure ; they are mute

upon earth until death's hand
Opens the mouth of the silent. Ye children,

does Death e'er alarm you ?
Death is the brother of Love, twin-brother is he,

and is only
More austere to behold. With a kiss upon hps

that are fading
Takes he the soul and departs, and rocked in

the arms of affection,
Places the ransomed child, new born, 'fore the

face of its father.
Sounds of his coming already I hear, — see dim-
ly his pinions.
Swart as the night, but with stars strewn upon

them ! I fear not before him.

86 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Death is only release, and in mercy is mute.

On his bosom
Freer breathes, in its coolness, my breast ; and

face to face standing
Look I on God as he is, a sun unpolluted by

vapors ;
Look on the light of the ages I loved, the spirits

majestic.
Nobler, better than I ; they stand by the throne

all transfigured.
Vested in white, and with harps of gold, and are

singing an anthem.
Writ in the climate of heaven, in the language

spoken by angels.
You, in like manner, ye children beloved, he one

day shall gather,
Never forgets he the weary ; — then welcome, ye

loved ones, hereafter !
Meanwhile forget not the keeping of vows, forget

not the promise,

THE CHILDREN OP THE LORD'S SUPPER. 87

Wander from holiness onward to holiness ; earth

shall ye heed not ;
Earth is but dust and heaven is light; I have

pledged you to heaven.
God of the Universe, hear me ! thou fountain of

Love everlasting,
Hark to the voice of thy servant ! I send up my

prayer to thy heaven !
Let me hereafter not miss at thy throne one spirit

of all these.
Whom thou hast given me here ! I have loved

them all like a father.
May they bear witness for me, that I taught them

the way of salvation,
Faithful, so far as I knew of thy word ; again

may they know me.
Fall on their Teacher's breast, and before thy

face may I place them.
Pure as they now are, but only more tried, and

exclaiming with gladness,

88 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Father, lo ! I am here, and the children, whom
thou hast given me ! "

Weeping he spake in these words ; and now at

the beck of the old man
Knee against knee they knitted a wreath round

the altar's enclosure.
Kneeling he read then the prayers of the conse-
cration, and softly
With him the children read ; at the close, with

tremulous accents,
Asked he the peace of heaven, a benediction

upon them.
Now should have ended his task for the day ; the

following Sunday
Was for the young appointed to eat of the Lord's

holy Supper.
Sudden, as struck from the clouds, stood the

Teacher silent and laid his

THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 89

Hand on his forehead, and cast his looks upward ;
while thoughts high and holy

Flew through the midst of his soul, and his eyes
glanced with wonderful brightness.

''On the next Sunday, who knows ! perhaps I
shall rest in the grave-yard !

Some one perhaps of yourselves, a hly broken
untimely.

Bow down his head to the earth ; why delay I ?
the hour is accomphshed.

Warm is the heart ; — I will so ! for to-day grows
the harvest of heaven.

What I began accomplish I now ; for what fail-
ing therein is

I, the old man, will answer to God and the rev-
erend father.

Say to me only, ye children, ye denizens new-
come in heaven.

Are ye ready this day to eat of the bread of
Atonement }

90 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

What it denote ill, that know ye full well, I have
told it you often.

Of the new covenant a symbol it is, of Atonement
a token,

Stablished between earth and heaven. Man by
his sins and transgressions

Far has w^andered from God, from his essence.
'T was in the beginning

Fast by the Tree of Knowledge he fell, and it
hangs its crown o'er the

Fall to this day ; in the Thought is the Fall ; in
the Heart the Atonement.

Infinite is the Fall, the Atonement infinite like-
wise.

See ! behind me, as far as the old man remem-
bers, and forward,

Far as Hope in her flight can reach with her
wearied pinions.

Sin and Atonement incessant go through the life-
time of mortals.

THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 91

Brought forth is sin full-grown ; but Atonement

sleeps in our bosoms
Still as the cradled babe ; and dreams of heaven

and of angels,
Cannot awake to sensation ; is hke the tones in

the harp's-strings,
Spirits imprisoned, that wait evermore the deliv-
erer's finger.
Therefore, ye children beloved, descended the

Prince of Atonement,
Woke the slumberer from sleep, and she stands

now with eyes all resplendent.
Bright as the vault of the sky, and battles with

Sin and o'ercomes her.
Downward to earth he came and transfigured,

thence reascended,
Not from the heart in like wise, for there he still

lives in the Spirit,
Loves and atones evermore. So long as Time

is, is Atonement.

92 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Therefore with reverence receive this day her
visible token.

Tokens are dead if the things do not Uve. The
hght everlasting

Unto the bhnd man is not, but is born of the eye
that has vision.

Neither in bread nor in v^^ine, but in the heart
that is hallowed

Lieth forgiveness enshrined ; the intention alone
of amendment

Fruits of the earth ennobles to heavenly things,
and removes all

Sin and the guerdon of sin. Only Love with
his arms wide extended,

Penitence weeping and praying ; the Will that is
tried, and whose gold flows

Purified forth from the flames ; in a word, man-
kind by Atonement

Breaketh Atonement's bread, and drinketh Atone-
ment's wine-cup.

THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 93

But he who Cometh up hither, unworthy, with

hate in his bosom,
Scoffing at men and at God, is guiky of Christ's

blessed body.
And the Redeemer's blood ! To himself he

eateth and drinketh
Death and doom ! And from this, preserve us,

thou heavenly Father!
Are ye ready, ye children, to eat of the bread

of Atonement ? "
Thus with emotion he asked, and together an-
swered the children
Yes ! with deep sobs interrupted. Then read

he the due supplications.
Read the Form of Communion, and in chimed

the organ and anthem ;
O ! Holy Lamb of God, who takest away our

transgressions.
Hear us ! give us thy peace ! have mercy, have

mercy upon us !

94 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Th' old man, with trembling hand, and heavenly

pearls on his eyehds,
Filled now the chalice and paten, and dealt round

the mystical symbols.
O ! then seemed it to me, as if God, with the

broad eye of mid-day.
Clearer looked in at the windows, and all the

trees in the churchyard
Bowed down their summits of green, and the

grass on the graves 'gan to shiver.
But in the children, (I noted it well ; I knew it)

there ran a
Tremor of holy rapture along through their icy-
cold members.
Decked like an altar before them, there stood

the green earth, and above it
Opened the heaven, as once before Stephen of

old ; — they beheld there
Radiant in glory the Father, and on his right

hand the Redeemer.

THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 95

Under ihem hear they the clang of harpstrings,

and angels from gold clouds
Beckon to them like brothers, and fan with their

pinions of pm'ple.

Closed was the Teacher's task, and with heav-
en in their hearts and their faces,

Up rose the children all, and each bowed him,
weeping full sorely,

Downward to kiss that reverend hand, but all of
them pressed he

Moved to his bosom, and laid, with a prayer,
his hands full of blessings.

Now on the holy breast, and now on the inno-
cent tresses.

MISCELLANEOUS.

99

THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH.

Under a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands ;

The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands ;

And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.

100 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long,

His face is like the tan ;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,

He earns whate'er he can.
And looks the whole world in the face,

For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night.
You can hear his bellows blow ;

You can hear him swing his heavy sledge.
With measured beat and slow,

Like a sexton ringing the village bell.
When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from school

Look in at the open door ;
They love to see the flaming forge.

And hear the bellows roar.
And catch the burning sparks that fly

Like chaff from a threshing floor.'

THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. 101

He goes on Sunday to the church,

And sits among his boys ;
He hears the parson pray and preach,

He hears his daughter's voice.
Singing in the village choir.

And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother's voice,

Singing in Paradise !
He needs must think of her once more.

How in the grave she lies ;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes

A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing.
Onward through life he goes ;

Each morning sees some task begin.
Each evening sees it close ;

Something attempted, something done.
Has earned a night's repose.

102 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught !

Thus at the flaming forge of hfe
Our fortunes must be wrought ;

Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought !

103

ENDYMION.

The rising moon has hid the stars ;

Her level rays, hke golden bars.
Lie on the landscape green.
With shadows brown between.

And silver white the river gleams.
As if Diana, in her dreams.
Had dropt her silver bow
Upon the meadows low.

104 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

On such a tranquil night as this,
She woke Endymion with a kiss,
When, sleeping in the grove.
He dreamed not of her love.

Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought,
Love gives itself, but is not bought ;
Nor voice, nor sound betrays
Its deep, impassioned gaze.

It comes, — the beautiful, the free.
The crown of all humanity, —
In silence and alone
To seek the elected one.

It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep.
Are Life's oblivion, the soul's sleep,
And kisses the closed eyes
Of him, who slumbering lies.

ENDYMION. 105

O, weary hearts ! O, slumbering eyes !
O, drooping souls, whose destinies

Are fraught with fear and pain,

Ye shall be loved again !

No one is so accursed by fate.
No one so utterly desolate.

But some heart, though unknown.

Responds unto his own.

Responds, — as if with unseen wings,
A breath from heaven had touched its strings;
And whispers, in its song,
"Where hast thou stayed so long ! "

106

THE TWO LOCKS OF HAIR.

FROM THE GERMAN OF PFIZER.

A YOUTH, light-hearted and content,
I wander through the world ;

Here, Arab-like, is pitched my tent
And straight again is furled.

Yet oft I dream, that once a wife
Close in my heart was locked, ,

And in the sweet repose of life
A blessed child I rocked.

TWO LOCKS OF HAIR. 107

I wake ! Away that dream, — away !

Too long did it remain !
So long, that both by night and day

It ever comes again.

The end lies ever in my thought ;

To a grave so cold and deep
The mother beautiful was brought ;

Then dropt the child asleep.

But now the dream is wholly o'er,

I bathe mine eyes and see ;
And wander through the world once more,

A youth so light and free.

Two locks, — and they are wondrous fair, — •

Left me that vision mild ;
The brown is from the mother's hair.

The blond is from the child.

108 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

And when I see that lock of gold,
Pale grows the evening-red ;

And when the dark lock I behold,
I wish that I were dead.

109

IT IS NOT ALWAYS MAY.

NO HAY PAJAROS EN LOS NIDOS DB ANTANO.

Spanish Proverb.

The sun is bright, — the air is clear,
The darting swallows soar and sing,

And from the stately elms I hear
The blue-bird prophesying Spring.

So blue yon winding river flows,
It seems an outlet from the sky,

Where waiting till the west wind blows,
The freighted clouds at anchor lie.

110 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

All things are new ; — the buds, the leaves,
That gild the elm-tree's nodding crest,

And even the nest beneath the eaves ; —
There are no birds in last year's nest !

All things rejoice in youth and love,
The fulness of their first delight !

And learn from the soft heavens above
The melting tenderness of night.

Maiden, that read'st this simple rhyme.
Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay ;

Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime,
For O ! it is not always May !

Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth,
To some good angel leave the rest ;

For Time will teach thee soon the truth.
There are no birds in last year's nest !

Ill

THE RAINY DAY.

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary ;
It rains, and the wind is never weary ;
Tlie vine still clings to the mouldering wall.
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary ;
It rains, and the wind is never weary ;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast
And the days are dark and dreary.

112 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Be Still, sad heart ! and cease repining ;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining ;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary.

113

GOD'S-ACRE.

I LIKE that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls
The burial-ground God's- Acre ! It is just ;

It consecrates each grave within its walls,

And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust.

God's- Acre ! Yes, that blessed name imparts
Comfort to those, who in the grave have sown

The seed, that they had garnered in their hearts.
Their bread of hfe, alas ! no more their own.

114 BALLADS AND OTHER rOEMS.

Into its furrows shall we all be cast,

In the sure faith, that we shall rise again

At the great harvest, when the arch-angel's blast
Shall winnow, like a fan, the chaff and grain.

Then shall the good stand in immortal bloom,
In the fair gardens of that second birth ;

And each bright blossom, mingle its perfume
With that of flowers, which never bloomed on
earth.

"With thy rude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod,
x\nd spread the furrow for the seed we sow ;

This is the field and Acre of our God.

This is the place, where human harvests grow !

115

TO THE RIVEE CHARLES.

River ! that in silence windest

Through the meadows, bright and free,

Till at length thy rest thou findest
In the bosom of the sea !

Four long years of mingled feeling.
Half in rest, and half in strife,

I have seen thy waters stealing
Onward, like the stream of life.

116 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Thou has taught me, Silent River !

Many a lesson, deep and long ;
Thou hast been a generous giver ;

I can give thee but a song.

Oft in sadness and in illness,

I have watched thy current glide,

Till the beauty of its stillness
Overflowed me, like a tide.

And in better hours and brighter,
When I saw thy waters gleam,

I have felt my heart beat lighter,
And leap onward with thy stream.

Not for this alone I love thee.
Nor because, thy waves of blue

From celestial seas above thee
Take their own celestial hue.

TO THE RIVER CHARLES. 117

Where yon shadowy woodlands hide thee,

And thy waters disappear,
Friends I love have dwelt beside thee,

And have made thy margin dear.

More than this ; — thy name reminds me
Of three friends, all true and tried ;

And that name, like magic, binds me
Closer, closer to thy side.

Friends my soul with joy remembers !

How like quivering flames they start.
When I fan the living embers

On the hearth-stone of my heart !

'T is for this, thou Silent River !

That my spirit leans to thee ;
Thou hast been a generous giver,

Take tliis idle song from me.

118

BLIND BARTIMEUS.

Blind Bartimeus at the gates

Of Jericho in darkness waits ;

He hears the crowd ; — he hears a breath

Say, "It is Christ of Nazareth !"

And calls, in tones of agony.

BLIND BARTIMEUS. HQ

The thronging multitudes increase ;
Bhnd Bartimeus, hold thy peace !
But still, above the noisy crowd,
The beggar's cry is shrill and loud ;
Until they say, " He calleth thee ! "
OdgdeL^ ayeigai, cpavu ca !

Then saith the Christ, as silent stands
The crowd, " What wilt thou at my hands ? "
And he replies, " O give me hght !
Rabbi, restore the blind man's sight ! "
And Jesus answers, "Tnays •
' H TtiOTis aov aiaoxs as !

Ye that have eyes, yet cannot see,

In darkness and In misery.

Recall those mighty Voices Three,

'L^oov, tXiriaov (.is !

Odgaei, eysigaL, vna/e !

' H Tttaiis oov aiaaxi as!

120

THE GOBLET OF LIFE.

Filled is Life's goblet to the brim ;
And though my eyes with tears are dim,
I see its sparkling bubbles swim,
And chaunt a melancholy hymn
With solemn voice and slow.

No purple flowers, — no garlands green,
Conceal the goblet's shade or sheen,
Nor maddening draughts of Hippocrene,
Like gleams of sunshine, flash between
Thick leaves of misletoe.

THE GOBLET OF LIFE. 121

This goblet, wrought with curious art,
Is filled with waters, that upstart.
When the deep fountains of the heart.
By strong convulsions rent apart,
Are running all to waste.

And as it mantling passes round,
With fennel is it wreathed and crowned.
Whose seed and foliage sun-imbrowned
Are in its waters steeped and drowned,
And give a bitter taste.

Above the lowly plants it towers.
The fennel, with its yellow flowers,
And in an earlier age than ours
Was gifted with the wondrous powers.
Lost vision to restore.

122 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

It gave new strength, and fearless mood ;
And gladiators, fierce and rude.
Mingled it in their daily food ;
And he who battled and subdued,
A wreath of fennel wore.

Then in Life's goblet freely press,
The leaves that give it bitterness,
Nor prize the colored w^aters less,
For in thy darkness and distress

New light and strength they give !

And he who has not learned to know
How false its sparkling bubbles show.
How bitter are the drops of w^oe.
With which its brim may overflow,
He has not learned to live.

THE GOBLET OF LIFE. 123

The prayer of Ajax was for light ;
Through all that dark and desperate fight,
The blackness of that noonday night,
He asked but the return of sight,
To see his foeman's face.

Let our unceasing, earnest prayer
Be, too, for light, — for strength to bear
Our portion of the weight of care.
That crushes into dumb despair
One half the human race.

O suffering, sad humanity !
O ye afflicted ones, who he
Steeped to the lips in misery,
Longing, and yet afraid to die.
Patient, though sorely tried !

124 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

I pledge you in this cup of grief,
Where floats the fennel's bitter leaf !
The Battle of our Life is brief,
The alarm, — the struggle, — the relief,
Then sleep we side by side.

125

MAIDENHOOD.

Maiden ! with the meek, brown eyes,
In whose orbs a shadow hes
Like the dusk in evening skies !

Thou whose locks outshine the sun,
Golden tresses, wreathed in one,
As the braided streamlets run !

Standing, with reluctant feet,
Where the brook and river meet.
Womanhood and childhood fleet !

126 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Gazing, with a timid glance,
On the brooklet's swift advance.
On the river's broad expanse !

Deep and still, that gliding stream
Beautiful to thee must seem,
As the river of a dream.

Then why pause with indecision.
When bright angels in thy vision
Beckon thee to fields Elysian .''

Seest thou shadows sailing by,
As the dove, with startled eye,
Sees the falcon's shadow fly .''

Hearest thou voices on the shore,
That our ears perceive no more,
• Deafened by the cataract's roar ?

MAIDENHOOD. 127

O, thou child of many prayers !

Life hath quicksands, — Life hath snares !

Care and age come unawares !

Like the swell of some sweet tune,
Morning rises into noon,
May glides onward into June.

Childhood is the bough, where slumbered
Birds and blossoms many -numbered ; —
Age, that bough with snows encumbered.

Gather, then, each flower that grows.
When the young heart overflows.
To embalm that tent of snows.

Bear a lily in thy hand ;

Gates of brass cannot withstand

One touch of that magic wand.

128 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

Bear through sorrow, wrong, and ruth,
In thy heart the dew of youth,
On thy hps the smile of truth.

O, that dew, hke balm, shall steal
Into wounds, that cannot heal.
Even as sleep our eyes doth seal ;

And that smile, like sunshine, dart
Into many a sunless heart.
For a smile of God thou art.

129

EXCELSIOR.

The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed
A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice,
A bannei* with the strange device
Excelsior !

His brow was sad ; his eye beneath,
Flashed like a faulchion from its sheath.
And like a silver clarion rung
The accents of that unknown tongue,
Excelsior !

130 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

In happy homes he saw the light
Of household fires gleam warm and bright ;
Above, the spectral glaciers shone,
And from his lips escaped a groan,
Excelsior !

" Try not the Pass ! " the old man said ;

" Dark lowers the tempest overhead.
The roaring torrent is deep and wide ' "
And loud that clarion voice replied
Excelsior !

" O stay," the maiden said, " and rest
Thy weary head upon this breast ! "
A tear stood in his bright blue eye.
But still he answered, with a sigh.
Excelsior !

EXCELSIOR. 131

" Beware the pine-tree's withered branch !
Beware the awful avalanche ! "
This was the peasant's last Good-night,
A voice replied, far up the height,
Excelsior !

At break of day, as heavenward
The pious monks of Saint Bernard
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,
A voice cried through the startled air
Excelsior !

A traveller, by the faithful hound.
Half-buried in the snow was found,
Still grasping in his hand of ice
That banner with the strange device
Excelsior !

132 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS.

There in the twilight cold and gray,
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay,
And from the sky, serene and far,
A voice fell, like a fallhig star,
Excelsior !

END.

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS

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